I remember it perfectly well... that look I'd give adults above a certain age, that never failed to let them know, that all I felt for them was pity. Pity, because they were old, because they just didn't know, because they didn't understand. I was the Queen of the world, untouchable, invincible and oh so very smart. I knew what was going on in the real world. Oldish adults were clearly out of the picture. Why? Because they were always home, raising kids or something like that. Not that I cared much.
I was raised by my parents to be polite. So I was. I was one of very few teens who were actually able to hold up their end of a conversation with an adult. But that just confirmed what I already knew... they were old and clueless. Yes, it was, at least for a while adults vs teens, with the teens winning overwhelming victory.
This ended, when I held a positive pregnancy test in my hand, at the very tender age of 19. While I was pro-choice, there was no way I could have had an abortion. And so I did, what would have inevitably happened sooner or later. I grew up. Two weeks before my 20th birthday I was no longer a careless teen, but a mother with responsibility. Sure, I was the youngest among my other mommy friends. But suddenly I belonged to the other side, and my teenage years were but a silly memory.
(No longer now. I happily remember my teenage years, and some of the very crazy things we did, and I'm glad we did them, because they ended too soon in my case.)
I'm not sure when exactly I started noticing pitiful looks from younger people. I seem to remember two young girls finding it amazingly humorous, that I was shopping in a store, they clearly defined as young and hip, which obviously I was not. I also frequently have a quick small talk with very young cashiers at stores or coffee shops, and really depending on what stupid thing slips out of my mouth, there it is... the pity. Sad old woman, trying to keep up with us young, cool people.
Last year my oldest daughter from Germany visited as every summer. She listened to a techno-version of "Poison". I was positively weirded out by it, but hey, I knew the song, so I sang along. My daughter listened in genuine admiration. "You know that song?" she asked, and it seemed for a little while, that my coolness could redeemed. I told her, that this song was at least 20 years old (MISTAKE NO. 1!!), and that I used to listen to it on my Walkman (MISTAKE NO. 2!!), and would she like to listen to the original version on youtube? (Alarm Bells are ringing! Red lights are flashing!!!). Hesitantly my daughter agreed. We went into my office, I typed in Alice Cooper (daughter's comment:"Her name is Alice Cooper?"), selected the right song, and played it. My poor daughter stared at the computer in complete disbelief and utter shock. Alice was a man. Alice was old, and he was ugly, and the song was ancient.... and so uncool. She did not listen all the way through, because she was convinced it would give her ear cancer.
She looked at me with great pity (flashback, here I come), patted my shoulder and said, "Never mind." She left the room laughing at her poor old mother. I finished watching and listening and singing, and I'm still convinced, that the original version is a gazillion times better than my daughter's boom boom version.
The fact is, it's happened. I have safely landed on planet "Ancientia", where I will vegetate for the rest of my sad little life. ;) And I can safely say, I am quite happy to be here, and I have zero desire to go back.